


Rebuilt Glass

by Amongthedeep



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bleak, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Drama, Gen, Melodrama, Mother Issues, Original Fiction, soft sci-fi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 03:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8039875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amongthedeep/pseuds/Amongthedeep
Summary: Jana lives under her controlling mother's thumb, but her free will, society's expectations and her mother's, lead her down a dark path that she might regret.





	Rebuilt Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2013, this is an old, unrefined short story but that it has a lot of meaning to me.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=14vkxft)

The lights of my room were muted, giving a cozy glow to the room while I sprawled on the sofa. “Connect to Mary Jay Whyne,” I said. The metal ball popped a blue screen. “Same time?”  
“Of course!” flashed. It made me smile.  
A red box with “Warning!” appeared in the middle of my blue screen. “Go to sleep,” it said. It signed: “Mother”. I sighed looking at the door of my room, the see-through glass letting the lights bleed to the living-room.  
It changed to “Go to sleep now.” while I scowled.  
I rose from the couch, dropping with a thud on the white bed, the lights disappeared after a few seconds. I clutched the PC to my chest, pretending sleep. The dark-blue of the outside seeped into the room, the moon casting distorted shadows on the wall. I looked at the spot in the floor where her shadow would fall. It appeared after a few seconds, her light flooding my room with stark-white. I stared at its stinging offense, willing her to leave. She did, but not before I was sweaty. I waited until she wasn’t in earshot, steady breaths slowing down my thumping heart.  
I belly upped, rubbing at the sore spot on my collarbone, fingers throbbing. I grabbed the headset from underneath the bed, looking around, and connected it to the PC. It clutch to my forehead and eyes, the options for mental-call set in motion. Mary appeared with a grin, straight teeth too-big for her face. We giggled together.  
“I know someone who can hack our PC’s, make it so we aren’t watched. I’ll need to see if we can meet. You up for it?”  
I nodded, grinning. “Of course, I am!”  
I fought frustration, and nodded, disconnecting before we got discovered. I hid the headset and the PC silently, bare feet not touching the floor—so that the lights wouldn’t lit up. I counted the spots on the wall, willing sleep to come.  
*  
I stirred, the water turning milk-white from the pills, shake starting to form. My stomach rumbled, I put the straw top and plopped it on my thin lips.  
“Wait for your father,” Mother said with a click of tongue.  
I fiddled with the straw, stirring and pulling. The bean-shape dissolved into nothing. Dad came in, grimy eyes shut, preparing his drink and plopping down in front of me. He nodded at me, and I smiled back. I sipped the odorless and tasteless substance. It wasn’t appetizing, but it muted hunger. My stomach soon protested, and I slowed down.  
I had a fantasy about trying the green world’s food. It was so potent, once you tried you’d be hooked, brain exploding with sensory-input. It was possible to get it from the black-market, a bit expensive but I knew Mary tried a few pieces on a stall. And she was on the same status, and social position as me.  
The reason I hadn’t was because Mother never allowed me, not even when my sister was alive. She’d told us it was bad for our brains, that it decreased its functions.  
I stopped pretending I was drinking, and waited for them to finish. They rose from the white chairs, not looking at each other nor talking, and crushed the paper cups on the tray. I got up and did the same, shielding them from noticing the liquid bursting out.  
The silver helpers rang our house, each with a bag on their hips, escorting Father and Mother to their vehicle. I fetched my PC and standard headset—it only transmitted sound. The deluxe headset wasn’t allowed on school grounds, I only got one because it’d been my sisters. I latched the standard headset on my ears, prompting the music manager.  
“Random,”I told it. I didn’t like music; it was all ambient, static-noise eighty percent of time. The good thing—it eliminated outside noises.  
I walked down the empty streets watching silver cars speed past the gray skies. Black stations were visible on all points of the city, towering over the clouds, they were on key-points of the city, hub to the teleportation machines. I didn’t like teleportation, I threw up every time I went on it, I couldn’t deal with the out-of-body feeling that came with it. Cars weren’t better, they were claustrophobic and entitled. I walked to school, it was only ten minutes by foot and Mary accompanied me.  
Five minutes from my house, an intersection bisected into three ways. Mary stood against the wall shaking her head, headset jerking. Seeing her made me smile. I waved at her, catching her attention. She bumped her headset with mine, giggling. I giggled back, enjoying her self-satisfied grin. She held onto my hand, warmth and soft on my cold and dry one, pulling me.  
Small cameras, one on each side of the automatic doors, blinked and zoomed in. It focused on my eyes, checking for drugs and alcohol, on my full-body for any sign of metal, weapons or harmful objects. The color on top of it flashed white, white, then green, beeping loudly, doors opening.  
“Baibai,” Mary said, jumping on the floating metal slab.  
I nodded, waving goodbye with a tight smile, jumping on one. It rose in the air, beeping, white lights flashing on the controls, system unlocking and enveloping me.  
“Number of identification, please.”  
“BW071391,” I said.  
From inside the controls, the hand-scan pushed out, the slight indent on the tips. I winced, feeling its tiny pricks drawing blood, checking for signs of life. It cleared green, hiding the hand-scan, closing around me in a bubble with transparent film.  
“First class, GEO101,” it said.  
Vertigo overtook me, bile rising to the back of my throat as I saw the buildings float past, stomach dropping to my navel. I covered my eyes, hiding from nausea and the view.  
It stopped in mid-air. “Is something wrong?”  
I dropped my hands, trying hard not to flinch at the synthetic voice.“Nothing, I only contemplated my current position in class is not adequate,” I replied, doing my best to sound adult.  
It believed my heart palpitations, sweat curling at my temple and dry mouth were all symptoms of it. It moved at that same fast pace. I stared at the controls, trying not to notice the blur on my sides, my stomach plummeting as we lowered.  
The building was one of many in a stark white row, the smell of cleaning chemicals was pungent and watered my eyes. The floor matched my white sneakers, my reflection muted and distorted by its shine. I clambered inside the class, avoiding eye-contact. I wasn’t a people person, I felt awkward around anyone. Mary was the exception because we’d been assigned each other as friends.  
The holo screen lit up, the teacher's’ head bobbing, welcoming us, a hand waving at our class chairs. You couldn’t call them chairs. They were half-down and ready for us to lie. The chairs restraints popped, holding me down by my navel, headset lowering to my head, attaching itself to my temple and neck.  
This was a different type of deluxe headset. Where the personal ones were to only transmit and receive thoughts, this one sent our thoughts to the teacher, but not his. Any fleeting thought would be echoed to the teacher, making sure we were on the same page.  
I closed my eyes as the syringe at the base of my neck pierced and injected. I hated this part. I did deep breaths, the warmth spreading from my neck to the base of my spine, to the tops of my head. It made my heart pump hard, blood rushing, drowning out the outside noises. My body went limp, brain focusing and working harder.  
The headset made noise, its grind bringing me back to the present, waiting for it. It scanned my brain, clearing OK in its droll voice. I felt like I was floating in the clouds, nothing to rein me in, to hold me back.  
“Good morning, class,” said the teacher hologram. “Now, today, let’s run through the basic questions. Why is the green world green?”  
Green. Green was a good color. Made me warm, fuzzy. Not that I was near it, or wore it. Right, green world. Green. I tried to remember and said, “Because of the amount of trees.”  
I had a sensation I was the last one to respond.  
“Very well, now what does the trees do?”  
Trees were green and brown, some had colorful fruits. They were supposed to smell nice and clean, fruity. It had made our world livable, before we’d tamed and bent it to our will. “Because it cleans the air, makes it livable.”  
“What else? That’s not all.”  
Was there anything else? I couldn’t think of anything else. Colorful, smelling good, fruits—that was all. I sighed exasperated. Mother was a big believer in over-achieving, and since I was the last and youngest daughter, I had to fill in for myself and for my sister shoes. My incredibly smart sister. If I didn’t give a third of her performance, I wouldn’t flunk but I would be reformed. I opened and closed my hands, stirring away from the thoughts.  
The teacher sighed, his synthetic voice clipped. “Remember, if there is no trees then the fields cannot be farmed,” he said. “Repeat with me.”  
We repeated three times. I thought about it, something nagging me. Wasn’t the green world dry and yellow now? So why did we keep calling it green?  
“Jana,” he admonished.  
The shock started with white-cold pain from my neck, exploding behind my quivering lashes. The chair groaned, my body jerking like dying fish on top of it as I arched to try to run away from the pain. It was impossible, I was connected and held by it, but it was an involuntary reaction.  
“I’m sorry,” I gasped, shuddering.  
A traitorous tear fell down my cheek, even though I wiped it quickly, he saw it. His breath caught, headset gripping me again. My neck received another blast, this time in liquid form. My mouth grew dry, heart thudding slower and slower, my whole body weighting like bricks. My hands and arms became like jelly, brain sluggish. It also dried the tears on my eyes.  
“Let’s continue, then. Now, let’s talk about the newest statistics. The dying rates have been constantly going down and why’s that?”  
Blank and numb, my brain couldn’t latch to the question, slippery through my ears. I tried hard to remember his question.  
“There’s been no killings,” I said.  
“No, no. Besides that, what constitutes as dying?”  
That was easy, so I smiled.“The brain stops and dies,” I replied.  
“So if there’s less dying rates….?” the teacher goaded on.  
The air around the class grew a bit restless, I could hear their clothes rustling.  
“We’ve found a way to stop the brain from dying?” I inquired.  
“Yes! We’re able to reproduce complete bodies from pre-collected cells from the owner's,” teacher said, holo mouth grinning. “With this, we insure the wellbeing of our species. No master or genius shall be lost to decay. Even all of you, will be kept forever as backup data.”  
I froze in my seat, hating the idea of living forever like this. The drugs protected me, bleeding away all tension and wariness. I shook all over as it scanned me. It detected my altered state, light blinking orange. Iron reams encapsulated with the transparent bubble. At least, it made me focus on their intertwining paths. Mary passed by me, grin showing all her too-big teeth, waving. She always had a happy, fond expression when it was the teacher she liked.  
I tried to grin back, spewing saliva all over my lips and chin. I tried to rub it off with my sleeve, but I kept missing, hands trembling.  
*  
Mother banged the table, rings flashing on her fingers. “This is inexcusable!” Her eyes were dilated, fixed on my face. I kept my expression blank. “That you would disgrace me! What did we said? What have we agreed?”  
Her droning, angry made me jerk and reply.“Wet is bad, follow the line, blank is good.” I slurred. She nodded, a screen appearing from her flying PC. I wanted one, but they were adults-only. The wet-sickness meant I was still immature, even at twelve. I would be an adult when I got rid of it.  
“Now, I agreed with the Director, after a long talk, that you will drink your nutrients after classes,” she said. “He hypothesized that the drink might have interfered with the headset. They want to make sure everything is clear. You will comply, understand? There have been other cases before, it varies from person to person, and so they’re letting you come back without reform.”  
She walked around, typing into the holo window. I stared, knowing she wasn’t finished. Her green bob was cute, though it was frazzled, and I wished for the tenth time she’d picked green instead of blue-black for my hair. It was the sign of being a second child. I asked before why not both daughters with green, but she flicked me off, mumbling something about honor.  
With my sister dead, I could change from blue-black to green. That didn’t mean anything to my Mother.  
She looked at me, tapping her window, nose wrinkled, looking me up and down.  
“Promise me you’ll behave. In honor of your sister,” she demanded, her finger pointed at me.  
I nodded, looking tearfully at my hands, I missed her so much.  
Mom went inside of her study, turning my bedroom walls and hers transparent. I mixed a shake, drinking it without appetite, though it was lunch time. I went into my room, sitting on the couch, toying with the PC. It was flashing orange, Mary the only one who sent me messages while on school.  
“You really should clean your chin”, one said.  
“Are you okay? They said they dragged you out. What happened?” said the other.  
One made me perk up: “Are you still up for it? HTT”  
I messaged her back: “Of course, same time, same place?”  
“Yes, tomorrow, earlier.”  
I grinned in delight. We were going to hack the system, unlock features, blocking my mother out.  
Morning was going to be a problem. My mother was suspicious to changes in routine. After Sister died, everything had to be perfect. I wasn’t worried about her reading the messages. HTT meant “Hack This Thing”. So we could lie about it even if she caught us.  
*  
The treatment center walls were sunset-orange, brown dividers shaping the lines. The lines were divided by gender and age. The older people sat in the chairs, flying PC’s occupying their space. Me and Mary were near the desk, two girls holding hands in front. The holographic woman’s smile was placid as she stared at the white light, waiting for green. Mary shifted beside me, tugging my hand, half-hugging me, giggling and whispering. It was endearing how excited she was, though I wished right then she wasn’t that excited. I pouted as I glanced at her, wanting to be annoyed but unable, she was contagious. The green light came on, the girls hurried inside, leaving us to say our numbers.  
“BW071391 and CN012490,” I announced.  
We cleared through the hand-print machine. We waited for the holo woman until she blinked, nodded, and smiled.  
We undressed, clothes piled on baskets with our ID tags. The hot pools wafted white steam around us, beads of it covering us with goosebumps. The water bubbled against us, my head and shoulders relaxing, drooping into that heat. Mary babbled on with a mischievous smile while I stared at the black ceiling, watching those wisps of steam go up and down.  
Out of nowhere, she jumped on top of me, pushing me underneath. I kicked at her legs, my hands slapping at her bony wrists. She finally let me up, her laughter echoing around us while I sputtered.  
“Cheer up,” she said, “or I’ll have to drown you, woman!”  
I laughed at her horrible imitation of her mother. I flicked away the wet hair stuck on my face, drawing a breath, pushing her into the water. I throttled her, her nails biting my arms with red half-moon teeth. For a second, I thought about watching her struggle until her arms would flop into that warm water and float.  
I released her, scared of that thought snaking around me. Poor Mary didn’t have any fault, this animal just wanted death, blood. My mother’s. Mary was the most important person in my life. She listened to my complaints, stroked my back when something upset me. My father had once done it, when I was small and my sister climbed his arms. I was despicable, letting these urges lash at her.  
She sputtered, a grin on her rosy face and threw water at my tingling face. We fought with the water, laughing, that stretched feeling inside of me growing.  
I hoped these feelings would never take away this laughter and her smile.  
*  
I hummed following the sound of drums in the song, eyes closed as it washed away the world outside my room. Mary read from her screen, her head weighting on my stomach. My hum became wistful, knowing I couldn’t read because of my mother’s orders. She says it fills the head full of garbage, making it weaker. So I obeyed her, even though it made me envious of Mary’s smile. A faraway, bemused smile that I’d never experience.  
Sometimes I did wonder how I even knew how to read. The odd message from Mary and my mother. Occasionally the system alerted me of the time. Mary’s mother allowed her everything my mother never let me do, like reading, watching movies, eating unknown, rare food. Not that I knew if other mothers let their kids that much freedom. I wasn’t prone to friends, I’d only ever stuck with my allotted childhood friend. I had a slot open for another friend and one for a girlfriend or boyfriend, but I was too shy and self involved.  
My life wasn’t something I could enjoy freely, maybe if I’d been born first or in another life….  
My mother arrived, peering through the glass door, waving at Mary with a tight smile. From her study, she made my walls transparent. Mary peeked from her holo book incredulously, a wry smile meeting mine. I sighed in reply, continuing to hum the song, fiddling with my PC to see nature pictures. The wilderness was enchanting: rivers flowing to the oceans, unlike ours which were isolated; animals roaming through the empty fields, all of them returned to their wild nature before they existed with us; mountains stretched so high they broke through the clouds, ours were leveled to make space.  
I disconnected, bored of the same pictures I’d seen all my life, poking Mary. “Watcha reading?”  
She shrugged, worrying her bottom lip, while looking at the wall. “An old book, it’s about why we decimated the beastly green people.”  
I shrugged back, knowing my mother couldn’t tell I’d used slang and so wouldn’t reform me. “So why did we?”  
She petted my hair, as her mother did and mine never had. “Oh, they were dumb, killed each other all the time. Just stupid.”  
I was going to ask about the dumb and stupid actions, but I noticed her glassy stare. My mother was on the other side, waving her arms and hands to tell us to back away from each other. We scrambled from each other's embrace, resting on the water pillow, smiling at each other.  
I shrugged again, knowing soon enough she wouldn’t be able to control what I did, watched and read. Mary matched my grin, all impish angel, knowing exactly what I was thinking.  
*  
I woke to an empty house, only the sounds of snores from my father filled the kitchen. I stalked through the kitchen, finding it odd that my mother was gone. The sound of the drawer opening rang through the kitchen. I stopped breathing, waiting to see if my father stormed out, cheeks red, nostrils flaring, grumbling. When nothing happened, I stuffed the bean and hurried to my bedroom, dressing and brushing, ditching my morning shower.  
The house door clicked close with a beeping noise, too low to wake my father. I ran through the streets, the fog concealed the sky and the streets, sun not yet up. My breath was loud, the only thing louder was my pulsing heartbeat on my ears. Sweat rolled down my sides, that sick, pungent smell of fear mixed with it.  
The intersection was empty. I learned against the wall, grabbing my sides, dragging deep breaths. The white pavement mixed with the white walls and the fog, a white world surrounding me and concealing everything. My mother’s orders rang through my head, making my legs weak kneed. Nothing was going to happen, they were long dead.  
Mary arrived smirking, squeezing me too tight, poking at my panting sides.  
She towed me downtown with a brisk pace, looking at the maps. To me it all looked the same, floating apartments. They were well taken care of, the streets clean, the pavement yellow and shining. I was surprised by that, my memories of this place were vague. The seedy neighborhood wasn’t far, I could see a street with its gray pavement from there. Just seeing that pavement, though not the same, brought chills and cold and tears. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see it, but it only made those vivid memories stronger. I could already feel their damp hands on my arms, their sour shake breath on my face, my sister’s begging and crying. I could taste my own blood on my tongue.  
The taste of his blood was vivid, that crunchy meat heavy on my jaw and teeth as I bit his arm. My own screams as I ran, crying and tripping, to that yellow pavement.  
Mary squeezed me, bringing me back to the present, far away from my sister’s screams. I felt woozy from lack of food, from memories, as I trailed her. Would a rich, powerful neighborhood hide a hacker? If they had it all, why hack? The previous hacker had been in our neighborhood, his eyes analyzing us from top to bottom were ingrained in my memories. His belch, hand scratching his hanging PC’s as he asked for a spin with each of us, was disgusting. Mary had been horrified while I threatened him.  
Would this place produce someone like that?  
After I’d threatened him, he fumbled with our PC’s, causing them to fry. My mother’s pencil thin eyebrows had not even moved when I told her it’d fallen with me. I’d actually thrown it against a wall so it could be believable. Of course, she remarked what a coincidence it was about my PC and Mary’s getting wrecked in the same day.  
We climbed into the stationary slab, Mary feeding it her palm and number. I expected it to deny us, but it rose steadily.  
The door was brown, the number plates in gold. Silence all around us, even ringing the intercom produced no sound. I tugged Mary’s sleeves, shaking my head. This was all a cruel lie, which we’d believed.  
The door opened, loud, obnoxious thumping music streaming out. The silver suit regarded us with its red bug eyes. It was armed, poised to fight.  
A boy’s hand patted its silver leg, wild raven hair framing his round face. The silver suit backed, letting us enter through that wide entrance. The house smelled sterile, same as the school, white walls immaculate. The stainless counters and tops were clear and shining. It had no signs of living, he couldn’t live alone, they’d never allow him.  
The boy led us into his room, taking my breath with it.  
Everywhere, colors splattered on the walls. Intense oranges, glittery purple, vivid green, warm brown. They made scenery and places and animals and nature all combined into one. Photographs, sepia and oversaturated, were pinned on those messy, rich walls. I gaped, enchanted. The boy was all smug, grin and blush at our expressions. He pushed that black nest from his eyes, hand extended.  
“’Kay, gimme,” he said.  
Mary was all eager smiles, watching as he connected her PC to his. A screen popped, numbers and language meshed together, flashing by too quick to make any sense. Her PC bleeped red, white, green, then white again.  
“That was easy.” He looked at me. “Now, you.”  
I threw mine, watching Mary toy with hers.  
“See, now I can send you unregistered videos, messages. Anything really,” she said, beaming. “It won’t show on the logs as long as yours isn’t monitored either.”  
I grinned, infected by her happiness. I’d be able to read all the books she’d raved about, watch the racy movies that made her sigh longingly.  
That was until I noticed the boy’s expression. He frowned, a little pucker between his eyebrows growing as time passed, glancing at me.  
“What?” I said, dread growing.  
He pushed bangs from his soaked forehead, pinning it on the side with a flowery pin.  
“This ain’t a normal system,” he said. “You already have a private channel, but the underlying connection is encrypted. It’s hard as PC’s to hack the receiving terminal and forget about the clearance device….” He sighed with frustration. “I can’t do it. I can do normals, but not this.”  
My excitement, my future plans, all crumpled into hard wax. I ripped the PC from his bands, my nails digging into his hands, and shoved it in my pocket. My legs didn’t feel steady, so I sat on that paint-splattered floor. Disappointment quickened my breathing, lumps growing on my chest, throat, lungs. I couldn’t stop the wet-sickness from tumbling down my face, that bitter liquid.  
Mary hugged me, the boy hugging my other side.  
I shoved them. “Leave me alone, I don’t need no pity!” I shouted.  
I stopped, stupefied. I’d slanged and it was all his fault! I eyed him angrily, getting my face patted gently by him.  
“It’s kay, we’ll figure it out, heh,” he said. “Promise you, blue-head.”  
Blue, he’d just called me blue. I slapped him, hand tingling, not wanting to remember right in that moment that I was secondary, below the threshold of my dead sister. That no matter how much I tried, I’d never amount to anything.  
I wanted him to slap me in return, feel that aching burn on my face. He smiled. I got up, legs unsteady, and walked a few steps before a hand sent me down. I sprawled all over that colorful floor, forehead and nose crunching. I glared over my shoulder, wanting to rip his smirking face. I rose, throwing myself on top of him, grabbing that slender neck, choking his windpipe. He kicked me off from him, slapping my gripping hands.  
He laughed, a buoyant open mouth sound that transferred from him into me. Mary giggled, helping me sit beside his lax body.  
“I’m a blackhead, what’s the problem, heh?” he said with a smirk, gripping my calf. “Dun worry, dun worry. We’ll fix it.”  
“I want no fixing,” I said, and cursed at getting caught in his rhythm. “I don’t need it.”  
*  
I woke to the sound of tapping nails, nail polish strong in the air. The sky floated past in wide chunks of gray, that tap-tap ongoing. Her shimmering green nails drummed against the door, shiny from perfect cuts and care. Those same nails lit up as she combed her hair with them, green on green. She didn’t look at me, only at those nails crunching the ends of her bob.  
The car lost altitude slowly. “Arrived,” it said, unlocking the doors.  
Mother jumped out, all cold elegance and efficiency. I tried, but my body felt heavy, my arms uncoordinated. She led me inside, sitting by the couch with me in tow.  
She cleaned the drool dripping from my chin with a thumb, cleaning on her loose blouse.  
I only noticed Mary because she greeted me with a warm smile. My face didn’t cooperate, so I did nothing but gurgle back.  
“Where did you go this morning?” Mother said, chipped eyes unblinking.  
I gurgled empty noises, producing drool. My mother cleaned it, soft sigh as she slobbered her blouse again.  
Mary was all apple cheeks, rosy and bashful. The image of innocence. “We met Karthi Ordling. I became friends with him, and wanted Jana to be a friend too. I’m so terribly sorry!”  
My Mother’s eyes lit at the name, eyes sharp. “Oh,” she said. “Then, you should let me meet him. I know of him, a precious little genius, they say.” She smiled, with a bite, “What does HTT mean?”  
Mary inhaled, eyes pleading at my vacant walls for answers, for a lie.  
I looked into my mom’s eyes and blinked. “Have….this…tree…” I gurgled out.  
Mary nodded when those chips for eyes landed on her. “What does that mean?”  
Mary smiled charmingly. “It means to have luck, because trees are so fundamental. It’s adapted from the old saying of HTS, Have This Star, which meant to have luck.”  
This was one of the reasons I loved her as a friend, and hoped we’d never get reassigned.  
I smiled at my mom, nodding, spilling more saliva. Mary cleaned it this time, looking radiant and relieved.  
My Mother didn’t leave. Her PC screen popped, the light blue color flashing white, attracting her attention.  
“So,” my Mother said. “Why did she need luck?”  
Mary came to the rescue with a blinding smile, “Jana was afraid Karthi wouldn’t like her, so I wished her luck.”  
I nodded, blinking at my mother. She left, looking satisfied.  
Mary helped me shuttle into the kitchen, she made my shake, my hands shook too much. I slurped most of it, whenever I drank it all I felt sick and vomited. I pushed it in Mary’s hands, willing her to drink it for me. She looked at the cameras surrounding us, green lights on, and placed it on the tray, backing away. I sighed, grabbing it. I crumpled it into a thin disc, but not all the way, tucking it into my waistline. I hurried to the showers, free of cameras because the government didn’t allow child nudity in the AI feed. As soon as I pressed the red button, water jetted from the wall. It hit the floor in big waterfalls, steam rising, fogging the glass walls. It billowed up, and covered by that blanket, I poured the remains into the drain.  
I smoothed it, placing it on the tray.  
Mary tugged at my towel, trying to rub my hair. I shook her off, spraying dripping water all around us. I stopped at my door, paling. Clothes were strewn everywhere, covering the white floor, draped over the sofa and bed and my chair. I growled and glared at Mary, I’d be the one cleaning it and get grounded. I sighed, kicking the clothes away while I went to my wardrobe. Mary squealed behind me a dying dolphin whine.  
“You only have these clothes?” she said, pointing. “They’re so drably!”  
I wrinkled my nose, rocking back and forth on the PC’s of my feet. It made me feel better, find some kind of balance.  
“Mother says, ’You only need white, brown and black.’.” I didn’t finish the rest of that comment. ’Only bad girls and whores dress to attract attention.’ I couldn’t. My mother was in her office, and while my walls weren’t transparent because of my showering, she could hear everything.  
Mary shook her head, plopping on my bed. She toyed with her hair, looking at me under her eyelashes.  
“What?” I said, peeved.  
She gave a mischievous smile. “I….” she said, looking at her hands. “I like Karthi. I’m gon-, huh, going to date him. I wanted to tell you first.”  
I didn’t know what to think, or feel. Mainly hurt. Mary was going to spend all her time with him, I’d get the scraps and bones of her. I couldn’t let her know how bad I was, so I smiled, nodding with conviction.  
She squealed in delight and hugged me, almost knocking down my towel. I hugged her back, fighting back irritation. I was her friend, I should be happy for her. But I knew why. Without her, I only had the same house and her.  
*  
In the morning, Mary was nowhere. Was she with Karthi? Did Karthi go to this school or to a special school? Was she going to transfer? My thoughts spiraled down towards darker avenues. I waited. I waited five minutes, then ten minutes. She didn’t appear and I was in danger of getting a late stamp on my record.  
At the doors, I looked around, trying to catch her brown-head to no avail. There were no messages, so I keyed one. ’Where are you?’ and almost keyed ’So Karthi > Me now in everything?’, but I didn’t. I crossed my arms, getting cleared by the slab.  
“SCI205” it announced.  
I almost cried. That or kick and break something, anything.  
*  
Throughout the whole morning, I checked on my PC with the hopes of any contact. Nothing. Mary was either avoiding me, sick or….I fought tears, swallowed them and carried on. I knew my mother was in a bad mood, she hovered while I drank my shake. I drank most if it, throwing some flimsy excuses. She gripped my forearm, green nails digging in.  
She peered into the shake, displeased. “Drink all of it,” she ordered.  
My stomach cramped, growling in pain and against more. I kept drinking, smiling at my mother’s cold eyes. When I finished, I dodged into the bathroom, climbing into the shower.  
Immediately, I vomited. The white, milky substance melded with the warm water, disappearing without a trace. My throat burned, eyes stinging with pain. I let the water ran through me, washing away the gunk stuck on my chest, clustered at my feet. I let it all flow away, but not all what I felt. Why had I been born second? Why did I have to be born there? Why was I born at all? In the end, as the shower timer came to an end, the only thing I knew for certain was that I hated it all.  
I threw myself into my bed, sobbing. Heavy feelings gnawed inside of me. Maybe I had a monster inside, eating until there was nothing of myself. Just a hollow thing. I sobbed without noise to not alert the cameras—pretending I was sleeping. After a while, my PC flashed and bounced, its screen opening with a message. I didn’t care if it was Mary, I wouldn’t care anymore. I was losing her, losing control over myself. Like this, I would never transcend into an adult; I’d forever stay as a mini-adult, incapable of controlling my own eyes.  
Eventually, I did look at the PC. Mary had sent me a couple messages:  
“Presented Karthi, they loved him,” one said.  
Another said, “Your mom will love him, he’s perfect.”  
“So proud! And sorry. Make it up to you, promise.”  
I felt this sinking, slithering thing inside me, climbing from where I held the PC. I squeezed the PC hard, wishing I could pulverize it. Now, I had nothing. I’d lost my sister, my mother, my father. Now, I was losing the last one. Mary had been my safe harbor, my constant companion. She had understood me, she had supported me. When my father withdrew because of my sister’s death, she was there, helping me deal with his absence. When my mother installed the cameras, the tracking devices on my clothes, the constant hovering; she was there. When nobody cared that I’d lost a sister too, that I hurt. That I rescued myself, left her behind being violated and hurt by those men, she was there. And now, I lost her. To a random boy. Was it because Karthi was charming? Rich? A hoodlum that broke the rules? What about me? Where was I in that equation? What about me locked in this house with her. Living under my sister’s shadow, trying to make up for someone that I couldn’t. Trying to be someone I was not. Living in a world full of white, padded walls, where no matter what I do, nothing changes.  
I threw the PC against the wall, the tears streaming down my face. I watched it hit, rebound back, spin through the floor, and flash white and green as it stopped near my feet. I threw myself against the wall, feeling the urge to hit my head over and over. Crush it all, all these feelings inside me, crush them all. Make them disappear until I can be what she wants, because I’m not. I can never be, so why try? Why does she make me try so much, why?  
I slumped into the ground, the tears never-ending, my whole body giving up. I saw the silver suits enter my room, my Mother’s high heels hitting with a click-clack on the floor. I think she said something, but I sobbed louder and fought against their hands.  
“Leave me alone, just leave me alone, please!” I roared.  
Mother slapped me, and I collapsed into their arms with a whimper. I begged her, but she was angry. Her jaw tight, ready to bite.  
She snapped at them, her heels clicking irritatingly. “This again?”  
“Just leave me alone! Please!” I shouted back, amid the sobs.  
Mother just shook her head, her patience finally drying up. “Take her away. Tell them that she is to be reformed.”  
I looked at her pleadingly, begging her through my eyes to not do this. To not send me there, where they broke you, where they would unmake you and rebuild you into a stranger. I tried to hug her, grab her hands, make her give me some affection but she jerked away.  
They took out a needle from inside one of their pockets, their grip unwavering. I fought against them, trying to release from their iron hands. I could only move a few paces until I felt it penetrate my neck, paralyzing me. Only then, did they release their grip. I felt my body tumble down to the floor, my eyes focusing on my Mother’s disappointed, light brown eyes.  
*  
I was frozen, so cold, so unmoving. Move, I told my arms. Move, I told my legs; but they wouldn’t. I couldn’t open my eyes, they felt frozen shut as if someone had poured glue all over them. And it was so cold, I wanted to shiver. I felt the impulse inside of me, but something didn’t let me. Why? Let me, please, just let me. I’ll be a good girl, I promise, please. I won’t even cry anymore, I won’t anymore, please, please.  
I heard their voices, distant yet near, as if they were talking through water; it was so muddled I wanted to tell them “Stop garbling your words, let me hear you”. But my voice didn’t come out, my throat didn’t move. I felt itchy in my scalp, in my nose, in my palms; I wanted to scratch, someone let me scratch, please.  
“Are you sure her brain fits the normal pattern?” one said, he wasn’t as garbled as the other ones.  
“Yes,” the female voice said. “Her brain fits, but she’s resisting it.”  
No, no, I’m not, I swear, I promise! I’m not, I’m not really, I swear, I swear! Please, please, just take me out; please, please. Oh god, why? Why don’t you release me from wherever I am? Mother, why did you do this to me? Why? I have been obedient; I have tried all my best to conform, to become as you wish; as Mother wished my sister was. I try, I try so hard, so why? Mother, why?  
I heard swooshing and bubbling, gobbling around me. I tried to move, nothing. Hadn’t they forgiven me yet? Why not? I wasn’t moving, I promised, I promise, I’ll promise and double promise, I’m not going to go against it, I swear. Please, someone, anyone, can’t you please hear me? Can’t you please see it? Please, someone, please God, do you exist? If so, please, help me! Take me out of this place, please, I beg of you.  
I shivered, wait, I could shiver? I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. It all felt so heavy: my limbs, my body, my thoughts; sluggish and dead. Was I dead? Was it horrible as all the people said, or was it finally peaceful? Peaceful from all the impositions, from all the things you had to be and do and conform to? In death, could we be squared instead of rounded like everyone else? Could we enter into a different hole? I didn’t want to be like the others, I just wanted to be a little, itty-bitty true to myself. I didn’t want to drink the horrible little shakes, I wanted to eat the fruit that was forbidden. I wanted to run and laugh; were we allowed to laugh till tears afterward? Was there an afterward? Why couldn’t we? Why couldn’t we cry and laugh? What’s so wrong with it?  
I heard the bzzt of their machines on me, my body feeling lighter, less frozen and warmer at the same time, I felt less than I was before, colder, smaller, deader. Would they tell? Could they tell? I was going to be perfect, just like they wanted, I would deceive because I’d been deceived. Wasn’t Mother supposed to love me? So why? Why reform me? Was there love in reforming? Was there hope in reforming? In freezing me until I die, or until I break? Until I stop being who I am, and start being who they want me to be? I would, I promised. I would become all they wanted me to be, because it was better than going through all that again.  
*  
I opened my eyes to sterile walls and ceiling, the lights non-existent. Maybe I was blind? No, I could see color and shapes, though blurred. Not by tears, I hoped, everything but the tears. I rose mechanically, feeling my body responding as an automate. Stiff, frozen, cold, so, so, itchy and blueish. Where was I? I couldn’t look around, my head was making me drop forward and backwards, I couldn’t deal with the weight. I weighed so much, so so much. Had they done something to me? Was I now inhabited by an alien, was I now going to become a suit? I couldn’t tell if they were there, the shadows and shapes shot out to me. I screamed and screamed, “Please, save me! Please, Please! I promise, I promise, I’ll do it! I swear!” and fell back into the table underneath me, their hands pushing my shoulders, their strange garbled noises in my ears, sounding like they were saying “Don’t worry, we’ll reform you now, you’ll never look the same, never be the same” and I screamed and screamed until my throat gave out and I stared at the ceiling, hoping, wishing, it would come crashing down and kill all of us.  
“Is she alright?” a voice said. “I think we might have damaged her, that’s not a normal reaction-”  
A person scoffed. “Nah, she’s simply getting into line,” the gruff voice said. “She learned her lesson.”  
*  
I slowly peered through my half-shut eyes, the ceiling was translucent now. I could see the strange night sky above me, the only black blue in the whole room, aside from my hair. Was my hair still that same color? I touched it and I froze, my head was bald. I had no hair….  
No, don’t cry, I told myself. They’ll see it and they’ll do worse, so much worse. I stiffened my body, my face, my eyes; let them see I’ve changed, I’m not going to cry over hair. I’m never going to cry ever again, even when I die, I promise.  
“Jana,” the gruff voice said, and I rose like a placard. “Your Mother awaits you outside these walls. And Mary, your dear friend.”  
I looked around alarmed, could they have done the same to her? Because she was my friend, even if not really anymore? It took me back by surprise. They weren’t holos, they weren’t wearing masks or silver suits. “Mary…” I growled out, my voice broken. How long? How long inside this place? How long since words had shaped through my lips? “Mary…”  
The old woman came nearer, but not kindly. I felt like an insect being inspected underneath their eyes. “Yes,” she said and nodded encouragingly. “Mary. She wants you back, being friends is important. And the boy, Karthi, your friend too, right?”  
I stiffly nodded, barely controlling my limbs. Act, act as if you are in control, you must control all of it. “Yes,” I said, my words slurred, almost like if I was an infant again, trying to learn how to speak. “Friends….”  
The gruff man walked closer, a syringe in his hand. “Yes, good. Now, we’ll give you this so we can transport you out,” he said, and stuck his syringe in my arm. I waited still, letting them own me, it’s what they do—own me. “Good girl,” he patted my face, harder than I had ever been, my head bouncing side to side from his rough calloused hands. “Now, sleep tight.”  
*  
The mirror was in front of me, though I didn’t know why. I looked different, I felt different, so why would they show me? I knew it deep down. I had no hair, anywhere, had I been reborn? No, it shocked me, I had breasts now. I never had them when I was….before, I told myself, how old had I been again? I had breasts and hips, how old am I? How long was I….being reformed? No, it couldn’t be a year, could it? Surely the clothes didn’t fit me because they weren’t mine, not because I’d outgrown them, spent years somewhere frozen. No, it couldn’t be, could it? I trembled as I dressed the clothes, too tight on top, too short on the length of the arms and legs, feeling stuffed inside a too small, cramped house. The shoes didn’t fit my feet, I’d outgrown them. How long? Why was no one here? Mother, Mary, why aren’t you here? Telling me what happened? Have you forgotten me?  
*  
The table was empty, white, nothing, just nothing. No one had been waiting for me at the table, why? No, stop asking questions. It’s because of the questions, because you asked, you doubted. They were God, and I was a worm. A slithering, dying worm, and I shouldn’t doubt the Gods. They own us, we serve them, so don’t think.  
I watched Mother come slowly into the table, her movement slower than I remembered. Her face wrinkled, was she this old before? Surely not. She didn’t smile and I didn’t try to. Strangely, I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. Was I supposed to feel something?  
Mother nodded at me, her dull green hair frayed. “Hello, Jana,” she said. It sounded old, older than she surely was, and rough, and cold. “They’ve said you’re all better now, we can take you home.”  
We? I looked behind her, no one was there. I looked back at her, but said nothing. I couldn’t trust this voice of mine, this brain of mine, from saying what I wasn’t supposed to say or she’d do it all over again until I became nothing but dust somewhere.  
“Jana, please,” my Mother’s voice said, her eyes growing red. “Are you alright? I thought….I thought you’d died. Please say anything.”  
“Anything,” I said, complying. I was like a robot. I felt like a robot.  
I saw the redness and shininess of her eyes grow deeper and stronger, her hand caught mine, the hot with the frozen. “You sound….you look….what happened? What they did do to you?”  
“Nothing,” I said and took my hand out of hers. “I don’t know.”  
She shook her head, a tight smile in her face. “No, you must. They told me you’d be reformed, that it would take a week. It’s been five years!”  
I stared at her, feeling something akin to a chuckle floating in the void of my mind. Five years? What age did that make her? Was it even relevant?  
“I don’t,” I finally said. “I remember nothing and it doesn’t matter either. How old am I?”  
She grabbed my arms, her green nail polish cracked and her nails bitten, shaking me. “Of course it matters!” she shouted, and backed away, noticing the zooming cameras. “You’re seventeen, surely you remember?”  
I cocked my head to one side, trying to remember. Did I? I shook my head and tried to smile, she backed off from me, repulsed. Was I repulsive now? I didn’t care either way.  
“I remember nothing, only that you sent me to be reformed. Only that,” I said, and hoped she knew I was accusing her, blaming her, but only in stating the facts. I wanted to kill her, kill that look in her face. Shame and incomprehension. Don’t pretend, stop pretending! You don’t care, you never did.  
“I….” she said, too bewildered to say anything else. “I know, I did a mistake. They….” she looked at the cameras and her brows knitted together, “…lied to me. They said a few days, not years! I’m so sorry…”  
“Believe me, please. I would never have….After your sister disappeared, you’re all I have-”  
“What do you mean disappeared? You told me she was dead, we buried her.”  
“She is as good as dead, we couldn’t find her, only the ones that sold her. It doesn’t matter-”  
It does! It matters to me, to me!, I wanted to scream, to cry. Only the thought of undoing my years as a captive—frozen and cold, returning to it—stopped me from gripping her neck and twisting, hearing the satisfying sound of bones snapping. But this wasn’t going to end like this. She was going to pay. I, my sister, we deserved justice. Revenge.  
As I followed her outside, a little realization came to me. All those years of vast, empty void. They took everything away from me. All the emotion, all the fear. All but that little black monster. Who would have thought that after it all, the only time I could feel something was at the thought of feeling your last breath under my hand? To laugh at you. It was not like I had anything to lose, anymore.  
*  
Home. I wanted to laugh, my lips stretching ever so slightly. My room was empty, stripped. The bed naked, the couch gone; the wardrobe disappeared. Didn’t matter, I wondered if I could buy a gun. No, I can’t, they’d know. They will always know, so how? No, no. I can’t do it, they would do it all over again and then, then it’d be worse because no praying to God would save me. No one would care anymore. Did they? Did they care now? I dropped into the bed and Mother brought a shake with her, she seemed to be smiling, but was she? Maybe this was all a farce, a bad farce. I drank it without tasting. My body spasmed, but I let it feel. Feelings, how long since I’d felt anything? I nodded at her and smiled, did I smile? I watched Mother’s face grow pallid and she left again. The house was mostly empty, no luxury in it anymore. And now that I thought about it, where was Dad?  
“Mom,” I called without really noticing her. “Where’s Dad?”  
She stormed in and slapped me, her eyes red and puffy. It felt like a punch, but I nodded vaguely. Where’s Dad? I wanted to know, I needed to know. “Dad?”  
Her hands trembled in her sides and she brought them to her mouth, as if she could clamp down her own words. “He’s no longer here,” she said and pointed at me. “Get it?”  
I nodded again. “My PC? My things?” I wanted them, I needed them.  
“There’s nothing left,” she said.  
It dawned on me that I hadn’t seen the little flying PC.  
“Here in this house, nothing.”  
Nothing? Why? Where was everyone? I looked around, where were the cameras?  
“He….” she said and started crying. “He could no longer look at me, because of you, I have nothing left. Only you.”  
She hugged me, crying and sobbing. My face didn’t change, but I felt a tinge of warmth inside. I forced a smirk. I could just let her suffer, couldn’t I? Killing….I couldn’t, I just wanted her to suffer. Surely, now that I’m older she’ll let me be myself, she won’t control me anymore. Maybe, this will do. There’s no need. No, no need to….  
“Go to bed,” the little words said and I looked at her through the transparent walls. They’d been transparent since that day. She waved at me, a tiny tight smile in her wrinkled face and kept on watching. I rose from the floor, trying to make my PC function again but it had died. Either too old, or I’d broken it that time. I flopped into bed, nothing to cover me, just the lumpy bed. I heard her pitter-patter through the empty house, echoing through the rooms, the light of her flashlight on top of me, searching the room. As if I had anything to hide, anything to be doing besides nothing. Her light stayed on top of my bed, flowing from beneath my eyelashes, it reminded me from when I was frozen. Maybe I was dreaming and inside of the void, this being all a test to see if I could go back to a warm, full house. Happiness doesn’t matter when you’re frozen, warmth is good enough. I could even take the horrible shake, the horrible school. I could take it all but this. The controlling, the lights, the messages to sleep. I stiffened as she entered the room, rubbing her hand through my bald head. I’m not your baby, and I’m not a newborn egg. I’m a rotten egg.  
*  
I wasn’t allowed to go to school, since I was too old to be in the midst of the kids. Mary hadn’t so much as passed through to see me. She was engaged to Karthi, or so I heard. That was another name that brought up nothing but evil within me. Traitor, traitorous, the lot of them, all traitors. I smiled at Mother bringing me the shake, making sure I drank every last drop inside of it. I wanted to puke it in her face, in her dusty floors, over her disheveled clothes; watch her face grow from happy to shocked, to outrage. I went outside, instead. Maybe the fresh air would cool my head, help me contain this seething urge.  
The world had changed. I saw no one through the high streets. Nothing there, no one there. Maybe it was late? I didn’t know hours or time. Mother had isolated herself and me. Driving me crazy, not letting me go out. Hugging me, telling me I’m safer inside. No, I’ll never be safe while she’s inside. Never.  
To my astonishment, I saw Mary in our little crossways. She gasped as she saw me, and ran and hugged me so tight I couldn’t breathe; I didn’t hug her back. I smiled tightly at her, and could see her drinking my presence, my looks, everything. Then, she broke down and sobbed.  
“Oh!” she said and grabbed me again. “I thought you were dead, I was sure you’d be dead! Karthi tried to look into it, he said his father wasn’t allowed to inquire!”  
I let her ramble, telling me about how happy she was that Karthi liked her. How her Mother and family were so happy, how everything had worked out. “And now,” she said, beaming, “you’ve even come back to us!”  
I laughed and she laughed back. If only she had understood.  
I want to crush that smile, that light that dances in your eyes. I want to pulverize every single one of you, until you become nothing like me.  
*  
“I think,” Karthi said with a grin, “she should know just how good green foods are.”  
He winked, big red fruits in his hand. He still slanged and he still had that rhythm of his, jovial and carefree. I could almost believe we were still twelve, playing around in his toy strewn room, without a care in the world. How strange those memories, which I hadn’t touched in what felt centuries, seemed almost peaceful to me. Yet, there were no toys scattered through his floor. Only stacks of documents and forms neatly arranged through the table, which was nothing more than a plain working desk. If it weren’t for a few gaming gears in the corner, I could swear it matched my fuzzy memories of my father’s room; the flying PC constantly alerting him fit perfectly in this place. I took the fruit from his grubby hand and, without a care in the world, bit into it.  
There was an explosion of light and feelings and tastes, spreading through my mouth and tongue until the sensation immersed my brain, piercing through the numbness that had set in. A little tear fell from my eye, crying from the taste, that deliciousness, that happiness. I beamed at them, feeling better, feeling more like the old me than this new me. My hands were covered in redness and I could see it as the blood I wanted to spill, their happiness dripping through my fingers. I gurgled in happiness, but a part of me was outraged. I wanted to kill, I wanted to protect them. I was broken, I’d been broken. Why? Why was I having such conflicting feelings? Surely, they weren’t traitors. They had searched for me, tried to know. Karthi had tried everything through his father, Mary had been depressed ever since. Or so they said. But Mother had always said she loved me as well. And that was a lie. Maybe they were lying too. Yes, that was it. They had to be lying. And yet, Mary looked at me so happy, so warm. No, they weren’t lying. It made me want to weep at her feet for wanting to destroy her, I was the traitor.  
I am the traitor, I can’t stop it, I can’t stop anymore.  
I got a rudimentary PC, old and slow, I used it to check the prominent news since I’d been gone. Of special interest were the ones about murder. I read them all, interweaving them with other society pages, I didn’t want to alert anyone. One by one, letting them wash me over with a feeling of understanding, of knowing why they did it. The stories about the dead geniuses being able to communicate their unfinished ideas disgusted me. How could they? How did they do it? But they would never tell us, the public wasn’t trustworthy for this type of secrets and it didn’t matter. To me, all the people I cared for were in my reach. All the people I wanted to kill. And then, I stumbled upon it.  
*  
The white, tiny building was no more than a side store beside the bank. I discovered that, during my absence, several controversies rose over the safety of the Concentrated Formula. The mixture could be lethal, the ingredients kept secret. All this led to public backlash and, as a response, they erected small stores, scarce in theory, which would supply the needs of the outlier people. Needless to say, you needed a permit from the government. They had lists beside each ingredient of the dose recommended, and the dose for someone that had this or that problem. It was perfect, meticulous. Their downfall.  
The walk towards the store was one of my happiest moments. So close, so at hand. I entered the empty store, walking past the holo receptionist, headed to the raw ingredients section. I flashed my ID, followed by the green beep of authentication, asked for the quantities of the chemicals I had researched beforehand online. They weren’t many, neither were they bizarre; the quantities were a bit odd, but nothing that would attract attention since I lived with Mother. I clicked the confirmation button and held my breath. This could not fail. Not now. Not so close.  
It took only five seconds for the quirky beep sound to fade. At long last, I had it in my hands. My hands trembled, either from eagerness or anxiety I didn’t know. The holo cashier at the door took no notice of what I carried, only glancing at my bald head. She looked at me with a mix of pity and patronization, as if I was a poor lost soul.  
Poor, maybe. Lost? Not at all. I knew exactly what I had to do.  
*  
Karthi brought more of the green’s people food with him. Mother surprised us all and ran into her room. When she came out, she looked as bedraggled as before, though her nails looked crisp and clean. I laughed while Mary put the food in the iron pan. I followed her as she put the food inside, stirring it into luscious and mouth-watering. Their last supper was going to be splendorous. Between conversations, they proudly announced their marriage. It was going to be in a week, if that much.  
“I’m so happy with him, Jana,” she said, slightly muffled from the sobbing. “And you’re even here….”  
I just nodded, smiling. I told them I’d cook the meal, since I wanted to learn how. As soon as I was left alone, I took the packets from my pocket and threw them all into the pan. I smiled, laughing with them. I stirred, letting the poison seep as deep. As deep as I willed it.  
Karthi brought out his fine, china plates and put them on the table. I helped him set the table, Mother ordering over us and placing them in different places. It was starting to grate on my nerves but I was genuinely happy. If only they knew.  
“Oh, it’s finished,” Mary announced with a proud smile as she looked to the roast and sauce. “You did so great! It looks so delicious.”  
I nodded and took the pan from her arms, carefully serving them. I would take them all with me. No, don’t smirk like that. You’re making it too obvious, too suspicious. I was actually surprised at how normal the food appeared to be. The colors, the smells. Wonderful and delicious, appealing to my senses. I tried to taste a spoonful of it, only to remember what was mixed with the crimson sauce. Appear normal, I told myself, I would kill them and I would die. It was only fair. Mary hugged me then, and I almost started half-laughing, half-crying.  
“I…” Mary said, a little timid. “I want to tell it now, Karthi. I’m pregnant of two months, barely a sprout!”  
My face grew rigid, only mustering a blank stare. No, she couldn’t. No, I couldn’t murder an infant, barely alive. Like me, no; like sister. I felt nauseated, almost started to cry. This is what I do, I destroy them. What was I doing? I felt like throwing up, but I rose and slapped Mary’s hand from the food.  
“Don’t eat! It’s poisoned!” I screamed and froze, though the tears flowed. “I’m sorry, so sorry…I…” I couldn’t finish it, I felt so bad, so good. I fell into the floor, weeping, crying, telling them to kill me. “Kill me!” I shouted, and threw myself at Karthi’s livid face. “Just kill me!”  
He slapped my hands from him, throwing me to the ground in an instinctual move. Mother was paler than me, her eyes frozen in shock and horror, trying to understand what was happening right in front of her eyes. Yes, that’s right. Oh yes, that is right. I remember what I was supposed to be doing now. Mary and Karthi were inconsequential. Yes, I did remember.  
I slowly got up and without a word, smirked at her. The tears never came, not even a drop. Before everyone could react, I lunged at her neck, my nails digging deep into her flesh.  
“You did this. You did this,” I shouted at her, not angry nor sad, just happy. Was this insanity? I didn’t care about anything anymore. So I pressed her neck harder and harder. “You killed me. You killed me over, and over and I’ll make you pay for killing me. You will pay.”  
She fought me, her hands against my face. Her sharp nails cut my face, my arms. It was all irrelevant, all the pain. I just laughed. I didn’t care, nothing was really worth it anymore. Only the bliss and the darkness that came with it.  
*  
The noise of the floating cars disappearing was oddly calming. Karthi and Mary, maybe they would survive? No, I wanted them to die. No, I wanted them to survive. Maybe I just didn’t care anymore. I felt her throat crush under my hands, her skull cracking on the eleventh bang to the ground. I whispered all her betrayals, her stupidity, all my feelings through the years, until it became a mutter, until I could finally stop laughing of exhaustion. I wanted to destroy her from the inside out, annihilate her very being, her own existence. Eventually, her limbs grew soft and silent, but I kept at it. When my strength ran out, only then did I realize that I could never feel better, I could never escape the darkness that I had become. And only then, did I cry.  
*  
They took me, the silver suits contrasting against my black clothes. I was the destroyer, the monster, but they’d made me what I was. I sat in the little cubicle, letting them prod me with machines. I never spoke, I never gasped when they electrocuted me, I never cried. I was over it, I’d spent them all over my Mother’s corpse, the corpse I’d wanted for so long that I no longer knew why I wanted it. I nodded each time they asked me if I was the killer, but never replied why I had done it.  
“She’s completely crazy, drugged the friends too,” one said, and I smirked at him.  
Yes, that’s right. Crazy, that’s what this whole society is.  
“And the poor girl, the child died,” the second said. “They’ll have to be taken care for a couple of weeks, poor families.”  
I blanched. No, that couldn’t be right. Had the child died? Couldn’t be true, could it? No, it could. I was a murderer, and they were going to spit in my face, piss in my dead body. Vengeance, vengeance is good. Vengeance will make them continue on living. It’ll give them a purpose to not despair. That at least was good.  
*  
The iron walls were covered in rust on top, black smoke on the bottom, almost as if someone deliberately etched it to make a beautiful orange, black pattern. One of the walls was transparent, directly in front of the iron chair. It didn’t have a spec of rust in it, it was so polished I could see my own twisted reflection. I could see the open vents for the smoke, the holes for the fire to spew out. I smirked, noticing it all. Soon, the end would come.  
Mary was in the audience, did she hate me? I think so, her eyes spit fire at me, or maybe that’s just the chair. I can see the flame being guided, experimented, seeing if it works properly. I loved Mary, and I loved Mother, I might even have loved Karthi. Couldn’t help these feelings, so contrasting, so independent of each other. Love and hate, I felt both towards them.  
The silver suits pushed me to the chair. I spotted Karthi next to her, his huge black eyes accusing me. I smiled at him and at Mary. At least, I’d die looking into the faces of someone I loved. I’d live forever in them, but not physically. They would burn me, and my brain would not remain. That made me happy, if they’d kept me like the rest, how much insane would’ve I gotten?  
The chair shot its grips along my waist, hands, arms, legs; locking me to it. I would never close my eyes, I would let them watch my eyes burn from the outside to the inside.  
You’ll suffer far more than me, you fools. This is going to hurt you even more. You’re kind, I am not.  
The flames started from my naked feet, burning them, crisping them. I wouldn’t be kind. I screamed, I begged them “Release me, please. I don’t know what I did. I’m sorry,” and I could see their eyes hurting, tearing, suffering. I grimaced and shouted more, cried more; a part of me smiled, serves them right, serves them so right.  
It climbed my legs, my thighs, my stomach; I screamed. I heard their whimpering and it made me scream harder as it grabbed my chest, my throat. It climbed to my face, my tongue burning with each scream and word. My eyes melted slowly, I couldn’t see them anymore, but I could hear them screaming to “Stop it, please, that’s enough!”. But they wouldn’t, the suits would never release me, they would never do it because this world is going to destroy you as it did to me, so they’ll squash your weaknesses now.  
I had no hair to burn so it climbed to my head, enveloped me, made me scream till I had no voice. Till I couldn’t feel anything anymore, remember nothing but their faces. Their kind, nice faces was imprinted in the back of my eyes, until I could no longer smell my very own burnt remains.  
>End of Transmission


End file.
